The Messenger
by Witty Moonlight Angel
Summary: Sauron receives a unexpected visitor in the form of a woman from the future. Who is she and what is her connection to him? Fiona is a little more than disoriented when she wakes up one morning and discovers herself in a bed that is not her own. On top, she's been transported back in time to the War of the One Ring seven hundred years ago.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Lord of the Rings and all its characters mentioned in this fanfiction is the property of J.R.R. Tolkien and his son, Christopher Tolkien. I am not making any money off of this story. This story is purely for funsies.

A/N: Hey everyone! I'm back after so many years of absence! A lot and I do mean a lot has happened since the last time I posted on . Life loves to throw surprises at me that forces me to drop all my creative endeavors and deal with the current problem or problems (pural) at hand. I'm back in school now and I'm working a part-time job on top of that, so yeah, I'm been a busy beaver. Anyway, this story is sort of post as I write type of thing, so yeah, I'll churn out the chapters as I write them instead of me waiting to get up to a certain number of chapters and then posting them once a week like I use to. I sincerely hope you all enjoy them and let me know what you think by either hitting that favorite/follow button or with a review. As always, constructive criticism is welcomed!

Chapter One

Something wasn't right. I don't know how I could tell, but whatever it was woke me out of a dead sleep. I gasped, sitting up in bed. Sweat dripped down the side of my face and rolled down my back in tiny rivers, making my night shirt cling to my body. Why it was so suffocating hot?

Wide eyed and confused, I took in my surroundings. Either Victor renovated his bedroom while I was sleeping - which I couldn't see him doing - or someone, somehow, managed to sneak into the manor, successfully evade detection, and kidnapped my sleeping ass without waking me up.

A dull throbbing pulsed beneath my skull, and my entire body tingled. I must have been drugged at one point. I grimaced and rubbed my face, wiping the sweat out of my eyes. Fuck, who keeps their room at the temperature of a sauna?

I peered around at my new surroundings. Somebody liked spikes and skulls. The bed I sat on was twice the size of the one I slept on while staying with Victor. Victor could pass for a freaking basketball player, standing at seven-foot even. The headboard behind the mountain of black and dark grey pillows was a terrifying piece of art made of black iron barbs, skulls, and spikes reaching towards the twenty-foot ceiling. Eerie glowing cracks that resembled molten lava zig-zagged along the walls and danced across the black and light grey swirled marble flooring.

A gothic window was position across the room looking towards a black sky. Thunder rumbled in the distance. I crawled off the bed and onto the floor. The souls of my heels tingled from the heat emitting from the titles as I crossed the room and over to the window.

I was greeted with a view of a desolate landscape. Dark mountains rose up towards the sky, outlined by a sliver of red as a violent rumble shook the terrain. Rock and lava spewed from the peak of a volcanic to the west. Considering how far I could see I had to venture a guess and say I was pretty far up. I guessed around a good thirty stories or so.

The hairs on the back of my neck stood up in the air, fear settling in the pit of my stomach. My throated tightened. Mordor. I was in freaking Mordor. Of all the places to be whisked away to, it had to be Mordor, but why anybody want to kidnap me in the first place?

My relationship with Victor wasn't public. Claudia and her people knew we were seeing each other, but other that, nobody else was supposed to know. I hadn't even told my own mother yet.

I noticed a desk in the far corner of the room and padded over to it. I frowned upon realizing it was a good inch or two taller than me. Seriously? My 5'6" frame was considered average for a woman my age, but here I felt shorter than short. I climbed into the ridiculously tall chair and examined the contents of the desk. Neatly arranged books sat off to one corner of the desk, while an ink well and feathered quill sat on the other. Obviously, somebody had a nostalgia for calligraphy.

I picked up a random scroll from a pile of three stationed off to the right of me and unrolled it. "Huh."

Black speech, something I was not fluent in, was meticulously written across the parchment. I thought Black speech was dead. I mean, I had seen it before in the old leather-bound books Victor kept in his library, but I didn't realize anybody still used it.

I stiffened. My senses went on high alert. Somebody crept up behind me. Extremely warm iron claws wrapped around the back of my neck. I swallowed, every muscle tensing. A low whispery voice spoke in Black Speech, the language resembling hissing serpents that curled along my skin.

"Um?" I had no idea what the person was asking of me. I was pulled out of the chair forcefully and found myself having to look up and up. A being taller even than Victor glared down at me. White scars cris-crossed an angry dark grey face with fiery orange-yellow eyes. Startling red hair was pulled up into a secure bun on top of the being's head, the color resembling embers in a fire. Black polished armor adorned the being's body with spikes decorating the shoulder pads and the elbows and knees of the armor.

He did not look impressed. "Tell me, daughter of man, how were you able to sneak into my chambers unnoticed?"

Why the hell was he acting like I was some sort of intruder? Power emitted the being in waves. Dark, dangerous, barely contained, ready to lash out should my answers not suffice.

The hand clasping the back of my hand suddenly became unbearably warm. I squirmed and tried to pry his talons away.

"Answer."

The back of my neck started to burn. I hissed as I tried to pry his hand away. I did not need second degree burns on the back of my neck! "Fucking ow! Stop!"

He applied more pressure.

The temperature of his hand rose to an intolerable level. It felt like he was trying to melt the flesh off of my bones!

There came a flash of light and flames that erupted in front of both of our faces, filling the room. I found myself being hurled back and hit the floor with a grunt. The back of my head collided with the marble floor, sending stars shooting through my vision.

The subtle pounding in my head from when I first woke up multiplied into a throbbing pulse. I opened and closed my eyes, the room titling this way and that. I groaned. Where did that light come from? What just happened?

Silence encompassed the room as I struggled to see. A dark shadow moved into view. I got the sense I was being glared at through the confusion of my brain struggling to catch up with what just happened.

The cold hard floor of a dungeon cell met my face as I was tossed inside. Not exactly what the doctor ordered for a concussion. I think I had a concussion. I don't know. My brain felt all fuzzy and there were still white spots in my vision. I groaned as the door slammed shut behind me.

The sound of Black speech echoed through the darkness as the orcs two who brought me here sauntered off, leaving me to deal with whatever happened back in their master's bedroom.

I had so many more questions than answers and one hell of a fucking concussion on top of that. Fuck my life.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Hey guys. First off, for those who read Chapter One before the 13th, should probably go back and reread it. I wasn't completely satisfied with the way I wrote firs the chapter the first time, so I went back and redid it. It felt like it was missing a couple of things, so yeah, please go back and reread it so when you continue onto Chapter Two you won't be confused on why our main lead suddenly has a concussion. I want to say "Thank you" to **Tibblets** and **jjmills53** for clicking the follow button. I hadn't posted anything on here for so long I wasn't sure how this fanfiction of mine was going to be received, so thank you! This means a lot to me!

Chapter Two

No painkillers. No running-water. No toilet to shit in. Whoever was in charges of looking after the prisoners in this place was horrible at their job. The first twenty-four hours the concussion had gone from awful to fucking off the wall horrid.

Every movement, every sound, every thought sent stars streaking through my vision and it felt like I was about to throw up at any moment. In fact, I did at one point, over in one of the dirty corners of the cell. The stench of mildew, excrement, and death hung in the air and mixed together with the clang of cell doors being shut and marching feet, creating a nauseating symphony of despair and dread.

I remained curled up in a ball, trying my best to let the concussion pass without putting too much of a strain on my already stressed out senses.

I don't know how long I spent in the dungeons. Time seemed to crawl to a halt, and it felt like the longer I sat there the worst my concussion got. My head felt barely attached to my shoulders.

Why me? Who could have gotten a hold of information concerning mine and Victor's affair? Were they using me to get to him? Was that guy, the one with the fiery red hair, really in charge around here?

Even though I was pretty still out of, the couple of Orcs that came to drag me away treated the guy like he was the head of operations around here. In fact, they acted like they were down right afraid of him.

I groaned as my brain felt like it was going to explode. What I wouldn't do for a tall glass of water and a couple of painkillers to stop the headache.

Tears welded up in my eyes. How long before the cavalry arrived? I mean, Victor must have already sent out a recon team to collect information on my whereabouts and gather together a search party. He did have access to the latest and greatest that was technically available.

Thinking hurt like hell. I curled into a tighter ball.

"Is she dead?" a raspy voice asked from the cell door.

"Who cares if some human woman dies rotting in the dungeons," another voice growled.

The intruding conversation was making my headache worst.

"Master seems in an awfully bad mood. Worse than usual since the she-woman appeared," another voice grumbled. "He ran a spear through Glogg this morning. Gutted him clean."

Would those bastards just shut up! Couldn't they have their damn conversation somewhere else?

"Think she twitched."

"Shh. You fool. Here comes Master!"

The conversation among the guards stopped as the sound of heavy footsteps approached. The cell door opened with a painfully loud creak, causing me to flinch.

The eerie feeling of being watched came to my attention through the continued pulsing behind my closed eyes. I forced my body to remain as still as possible. Maybe if I played dead, they would leave me alone.

"Get up," came the deep whispery voice. "I know you can hear me."

I groaned. I refused to budge.

I heard a sigh. I felt the being known to the orc guards as Master kneel down next to me. "Can you or can't you get up?"

When I didn't respond right away, I felt the unnatural heat of two metal clad arms slip under me and suddenly found myself being picked up off the ground. The sudden movement made my stomach lung and my head spin. I whimpered.

By the gods, I hoped I threw up all over the ass hole who decided to throw me in the dungeons after the shitty ass stunt of kidnapping me and then pretending to not know how I got into his fucking bedroom! Bile rose in the back of my throat and it took a couple of swallows before I was sure I wouldn't be puking all over the front of the person's shiny black armor.

The preternatural warmth radiating from the guy's body, both helped sooth my concussion and made me uncomfortable. What was he? A walking furnace?

I felt myself being placed onto what I could describe as something soft. Probably a bed. A soft whispery chant filled my ears. Warmth spread through my sinus cavity and then seeped into my skull and into my brain. The pulsing pain and off kilter feeling that came with the concussion faded away.

I blinked as I opened my eyes. My headache was gone?

I sat up. I was in a different room with the same color scheme as the bedroom I first woke up in, except the bed was a normal size king with a plain black headboard of dark stained black cherry wood. Torches hung from the dark stone walls and an arch window looked towards what looked like a fortified walkway. Tiny dancing lights moved in and out of view.

"Tell me, woman, what is your name?" came the commanding whispery serpent like voice of the person in charge.

I turned my head and found myself being analyzed by two fierce eyes that glowed like flames in the dim light of the room. I noted that the armor he wore before was gone replaced by a silk dark grey tunic.

I touched my forehead. "Um, Fiona. It's Fiona, and thanks for getting rid of the concussion."

The stench of so many days without a shower and accidentally peeing on myself once or twice caught up with my senses. Guess, I had been too sick to realize how much I stunk up to the heavens and back. I grimaced at my sullied night-shirt. "Ew."

"If you answer my questions, I will allow you the luxury of a bath," the head honcho offered. A slight amusement tugging at his scarred lips as he caught me grimacing at my own disgusting state.

I felt crusty all over. "What do you want to know?" Shouldn't I be the one asking questions here? I mean, wasn't it his men who kidnapped me? I guess I needed to play the game in order to get answers to my own questions.

"A ordinary human woman shouldn't be able to sneak into the heart of Mordor without detection. There are thousands of orcs and foul beasts at my command," the head huncho replied, his eyes burning brighter with visible frustration. "Only a being with extraordinary power can do such a feat. How did you find your way in?"

I gave him an incredulous look. Seriously, he was still playing the intruder angle? I needed to trip him up. I cleared my dry throat and said honestly, "I.. don't know. I kind of woke up there."

Boss Man regarded me. Those glowing fiery eyes scrutinizing me like I was some sort of specimen. I shifted uncomfortable on the bed.

"Where do you come from?" he asked after a long awkward moment.

I stiffened. "Dale," I said carefully. It wasn't exactly a lie, but it wasn't quite the truth. Dale was a large populated city with five burrows and lots of suburbs. I grew up in the suburbs, but I wasn't planning on saying where.

"How did you come by that power of yours?"

What the?! I looked at him wide eyed. "What… What you are talking about?"

He was on top of me before I knew it. Quicker than lightening a mace came down on top of me. I cried out and through up my hands in defends. The blow never came. I peeled one eye open and then the other as I found myself encased in a bubble of fire. My eyes widened.

"Do take me for a fool!" He snarled, his eyes burning a wrathful orange and red. The bun on top of his came undone, his hair igniting into flames dancing around him, enhancing the contorted features of his face. His lips were pulled back in a snarl that revealed sharp jagged teeth.

Fear cold and thick choked me as I stared into those hateful eyes beyond the flames that protected me.

"I don't know how you came across this power, but it is not yours to wield! You are a daughter of Men, weak, flawed, unfit to wield it!" He declared, his voice ringing through the bedroom, making the walls shake and the bedframe rattle.

What the hell was this dude's problem?! What was going on here?! Tears welded up in my eyes as I peered beyond the shield of flames protecting me from his monstrous wrath. My mouth dropped open a little as I found myself saved from a grisly death by the mysterious barrier.

I tried to swallow around the knot that formed in my throat. I could have died! What did this asshole want from me?! He could have killed me!

"You… You have an really, really short fuse," I heard myself say. Ugh, no! Stop! Fiona, please shut up! Now's not the time lose control of your mouth!

The burning hatred in his cooled as he pulled the mace away from the barrier. "I will only ask one more time! How did you acquire this power?"

The flames remained surrounding me as if they sensed I was still in danger. I stared at him like a deer in headlights. He could have killed me! He could have fucking killed me! Tears spilled down my cheeks as an numbing coldness settled in my stomach. By the gods!

"I-I don't know!" I choked out my voice cracking as I struggled to reign in the overwhelming sense I had barely escaped death. "I don't fucking know!"


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Alright! Alrighty right! I want to give a huge "Thank you" to the people who hit that "Follow" button: **AngelElmarlienHenning** , **Davs** , **SalutMinet** , and **Jacquie1122.** I love seeing people take interest in what I write. I hope the story continues to intrigue you. And a huge "Thank you!" to our first reviewer! Whoot! I'm glad you think this story is interesting. I'm not really sure about what "mischief and fun to come" you speak of, but hopefully what I have in store is suitable enough to fit the description. ^^

Chapter Three

The hallway was familiar. Deep maroon wallpaper and dark stained wooden floors that echoed as I followed them. My feet knew the way by heart. Safe. That's how I felt while walking the hallways of Victor's manor. Music blared in my headphones as I headed for Victor's private lab.

Victor was a workaholic. If you left him to his own devices too long he'd probably work himself to death.

I stopped at the door to his lab. He always holed himself up there for days on end, especially when he was in a mood. I pried the door open and peeked in. The black of his t-shirt came into view, his upper body hunched over something in the far back.

I turned off the music in my I-pod and slipped in. Among the steel plated tables, chemistry kits set were up among the machines and white sterile cabinets. I tried to mind the many cords running along the floor. Who knows what would happen if I tripped in here?

"Do you have a good reason for bothering me?" Victor's annoyed melodic voice asked thwarting my attempt to startle him.

I pouted and pressed myself against his narrow waist. "You need a break. You've been in here for days."

Victor's broad shoulder sagged when I refused to unwind myself from his waist as he tried to ignore me. I peered around him to see what he was so invested in. A thick text book laid open on the sterile counter. I scouted around to peek further under his arm to get a better look.

"You are such a nuisance at times," Victor said with a chuckle as I read under his arm. He had been studying alchemy formulas. Being the lead in the telecommunications and energy industries, Victor constantly competed to outdo any competitors that tried to challenge him.

"Well, that's why you love me," I said as I let go of him and pulled the alchemy book over. Judging by the formulas, he was looking into creating a lighter density gold that was easier to produce. Gold transferred energy efficiently and was high in demand in the tech field. Computer chips used gold, satellites, and panels on spacecraft being developed by the space program in Bree. "So this is what you've been pouring over the last few days."

Victor sighed. "Creating gold is difficult to make in even small amounts artificially, and the natural deposits in the East and in Erebor are dwindling."

"Hm." I made a sound of agreement. Gold was extremely valuable on the market and experts predicted there would be a shortage in the next century or so. "Always ahead of the curb. Well, you can work on it later. Miriam told me to drag your ass out of your lab for lunch."

"Tell her to bring it here. There is much work to do," Victor replied with a dismissive wave of his hand. Victor with his darker complexion and dark hair suggested an Eastern heritage, but no one knew for sure. Burgundy colored eyes studied the pages of the textbook, flipping from one section to another, memorizing certain formulas and sigils. When Victor dedicated himself to a project, he did so wholeheartedly, working long and tirelessly till he was satisfied with the end results.

"The world isn't going to end if you go eat lunch," I said with a huff and eye roll. "Besides, we all miss your radiant smile."

Victor looked down at me, an eyebrow raised incredulous. I wrapped my arm around his to lead him out of the lab.

The sound of dripping water woke me up. The dream, a memory from the last time I spent time with Victor. My heart thumped painfully in my chest as I cast my eyes across the damp cell I was thrown into yet again. I missed Victor like something awful. I missed his grumpiness, his dry sense of humor, his dark tan facial features that were always so sharp and angular. I missed the smell of him when we were tangled up together. Sure, he came off a little too serious at times and was a workaholic by nature, but he had a good heart for anyone lucky enough to earn his trust and loyalty.

I rolled over onto my side with a groan and sat up and stretched. My joints popped. I never got that bath that was promised, and my hair was a greasy rat's nest.

It felt I wasn't getting anywhere. After another burst of violence towards me, Mister Big Bad Bossman, decided he wanted nothing more to do with me and ordered his minions to take me back to my cell in the dungeons far down below their headquarters. This time, my senses were unhindered by a concussion and I found myself taking in the medieval decor and torch lit stone hallways. There were no signs of modern appliances or electricity. It felt like I stepped back in time.

A small knot of dread lingered in my stomach twenty-four seven, along with constant hunger. I was fed crumbles of dried moldy bread and a sullied copper cup of water once a day and that was it. I was starting to think these people didn't have a human resource department for inmates to complain to and by the sounds of screaming, they didn't believe in the humane treatment of their prisoners either.

I sat as far away from the wooden door as possible and tried in vain to shut out the screams and the snarls of the guards.

The door swung open and a stout Orc with a mutilated face hobbled in. A nasty looking spike mace hung from his hand as his one good eye glared at me. It appeared the poor bastard had been put through Hell and back.

"Master summons you," the Orc growled, his voice throaty and dry.

Man, Claudia would be horrified to see the way her race is being treated here, I thought with a grimace. Orcs struggled for centuries to gain even second-class citizenship. The government in some states were still in the motions of trying to figure out on whether Orcs should be allowed to vote or not. They had been abused, enslaved, and slaughtered senseless throughout history. The stereotypical portrayal of an Orc was a slow, hideous killing machine that would steal your children and eat them for breakfast. The poor bastard in front of me reminded me of that stereotype.

I followed behind the orc silently as he led the way through the mazelike dungeons. We reached a stairway that spiraled up and up. There was no railing or sturdy barrier to keep a person from falling to their doom if they slipped and took a tumble. My stomach dropped, and my throat constricted. I was going have to make that climb whether my nerves could handle it or not.

I was out of breath and running on fumes by the time we made the track up the spiral staircase of doom. Seriously, had nobody ever heard of an elevator?

I followed the limping Orc down the hallway. I cast a glance at the leg the Orc was trying not put a lot of weight on. The joint at the kneecap looked swollen. "What happened to your leg?"

The Orc ignored me.

I tried to make some civil conversation. The silence was getting to me. I was not looking forward to being in the same room with that bastard again, especially if he attempted to kill me again. "My name is Fiona by the way. What's yours?"

Again nothing. He was ignoring me apparently.

I sighed. Great. I guess I had to walk in silence for the rest of the way there.

The Orc stopped in front of duel doors. They opened on their own, as if sensing our presence. Beyond that was a long dark stained table. Dark grey stone columns towered over head, the ceiling arching towards a two-tiered black iron chandelier with flickering black candles. Was there no electricity in this place at all?

I grimaced upon seeing the head honcho sitting down at the far end of the massive table. Even from the doorway, his pinned up red hair glowed like embers in a firepit. He was suited up in armor again and sat in an intimidating looking chair.

The smell of freshly roasted pork and baked bread wafted off the table as I followed the Orc to the end of the table. An large spread of food – roast suckling pig, roasted lambs, fresh baked buns, a tray of fruit and some kind of soup- was gathered in front of him.

I felt the Dark Lord's hateful eyes watching my every step as we came closer and closer. My heart sped up. I tried to keep my face as neutral as possible, even though I wanted nothing more than run from the dining hall and never look back.

"I brought the girl, Master," the Orc replied quietly and bowed.

"Good. Leave," He told him as his eyes remained focus on my face. He studied me as I tried desperately not to flinch and look away.

My hands clenched and unclenched as I worked to not turn around and run. My heart jackhammered away in my chest.

"Sit. I doubt the food in the dungeons fills the stomach," He replied with almost nonchalance. He acted like he hadn't tried to kill me for the second time not so long ago.

I glanced at the seat next to him and then back at him. Was the food poisoned? What was his game? I doubt I could make it very far if I made a break for it.

"The food is pure," he said watching the emotions war in my eyes. "You would be of no use to me dead."

I bit my tongue to stop myself from making a smart-ass comment. Good to know, he didn't think I would be of any use dead, but he could also be lying at the same time. I cautiously took a seat as I watched him fill my plate. The sight of food, actually food, made my stomach rumble audibly. I pretty sure I lost a good fifteen to twenty pounds while sitting in that cell with nothing, but crumbs and water.

"Thank you," I muttered quietly. He even poured me a glass of what looked like wine. I eyed him from underneath my eyelashes.

"Eat," he said, gesturing towards the food.

I pressed my lips together and swallowed. I was so hungry! I don't know how long I had been in the dungeons this time around. It felt like time crawled at a snail's past down there. There were no windows, no clocks. Just mildew covered walls, the stomping of boots, and the screams of someone being tortured. I had a feeling I was going to be in for years of therapy after I was rescued from this Hellhole.

I picked up a knife and fork and slowly cut into what looked like roasted lamb. I hesitantly smelled it. It smelled delicious and attentively put it in my mouth. Rosemary blossomed across my taste along with the rich taste of cooked meat. I nearly fell apart right there and moaned in pleasure. Real fucking food!

"It appears I have been going about this all wrong," the head honcho remarked as I began digging in. His eyes followed my every movement. "You might only be a tool in some cleverly devised plan. It occurred to me a day back that you reacted in confusion when that barrier appeared to stop me from ending your life. You might not beware of the power you possess."

No really? What gave him that idea? I kept my remarks to myself, focusing on eating and listening. I gulped down the wine.

"You said you were from Dale. Have you been in connect with any wizards passing through the region?" he asked.

I swallowed and arched an unkept eyebrow. Wizards? "Wizards went extinct centuries ago. Nobody seen or heard about one in more than two hundred years."

I watched as his eyes widened. A puzzled expression broke through the indifferent mask. His facial expression hardened. "Explain."

"The last documented wizard went by the name of Virgil Eldrich if I got my facts straight. There's a museum dedicated to him in Celebrim. He was mostly a traveling magician that went from town to town in Rohan preforming magic and setting off quite the firework displays. Apparently, he was quite the entertainer. The museum has some of the originals fireworks he used."

A long silence followed. I glanced up at Mister Big and Bad. A perturbed look crossed his dark grey face. "What game are you playing, girl?"

The sharpness of the tone in his voice, sent a shudder through me. I tried to keep my eye on the food in front of me. "What to do you mean?"

"Wizards do still exist," he started slowly, his voice and quiet warming with unbridle fury. "They are the bane of my existence! One is leading the last futile attempts of Men to deny me from my rightful claim to Middle-Earth as we speak!"

I gave him a dubious look. His eyes burned brighter. I swore I saw the candles above our heads flare with his declaration.

"Once I regain what has been lost, it will not matter," he replied, attempting to control his voice. He scrutinized me as he leaned back against his chair. "Have you heard of the Gandalf the Grey?"

I chewed slowly. Gandalf, Gandalf. That name rang a bell. "Gandalf The Grey played a major role in aiding the later to be King of Gondor, Aragorn, to reunite the Last Alliance of Men, Elves and Dwarves during the War of the Ring," I replied. "He was also considered a close friend of the Elves before they mysteriously vanished from Middle-Earth some years after the war. Not much is really known about Gandalf prior to the War of the Ring. There are references and images that suggest he might have been apart of the Dwarves driving out the Dragon, Smaug, out of Erebor and the war that came afterwards between the survivors of Laketown, the Elves of Mirkwood, and army of Orcs from the North, but there aren't specific details or dates left behind of where he came from, where he went after the War, or where he might have spent his last years on Earth. He's considered an historic enigma."

I glanced towards my captor. An unsettling silence penetrated the dining hall. His ember eyes burned brightly as he stared into the air in front of him, his scarred lips in a severe frown. The air suddenly became uncomfortably hot and a shiver ran up my spine. Alarm bells went off in the back of my head, whispering _danger, danger! Run for it!_

I instantly wanted to bolt from the room. Every nerve ending fired, screaming at me to run for my life! I forced myself to stay perfectly still.

"What about the fate of the Lord of Mordor?" he asked, his serpent like voice low and dangerously quiet.

I dreaded answering him. I swallowed and took a sip of wine. "Yow!" Why was the wine suddenly scolding hot?!

His predatory eyes darted to me. "What of the Lord of Mordor? What became of him?"

"Um, that's…. Well," I stammered. Please don't try to kill me again! Please don't try to kill me again! My heart hammered away in my chest. "He sort of perished… The tower of Barad-Bur collapsed after the ultimate weapon was cast back into the fires of Mount Doom! According to the ancient accounts that is and you never really know-!"

"Enough!" How could one word be so terrifying?!

That one word and I was already stumbling out of my chair and took shelter behind the high back, anticipating the worse, even though, rationally, I don't see why this guy would get so distraught over something that happened over seven hundred years ago. Unleash, he was somehow a descendant of Sauron, Dark Lord of Mordor, one of the most notorious tyrants to ever set foot on the soil of Middle-Earth, which could technically happen I guess. The historical records never said if they ever found the body of Sauron. There were myths surrounding him that said he was some kind of powerful entity, who formed out of the hatred and fears that poisoned the hearts' of men. Another legend said he was one of the fallen gods that hated and envied the race of Elves and Men because they were given Middle-Earth by the Gods to fashion to their liking.

I peeked out from the chair when the storm didn't come. The tension in the air still remained but apparently, he hadn't reached critical melt down yet.

My captor sat in his chair, perfectly straight and surprisingly composed considering how he reacted before whether I seemed to drop a bomb shell on something he wasn't particularly fond of. The calm demeanor freaked me out even worst!

"Return to you seat. It appears there is much you and I have to discuss," he said in an even tone.

Fear spread through my chest like the dead of winter and I fought to suppress a visible shudder. I carefully climbed back into the chair and folded my arms in front of me. I analyzed the ominous calm expression on his face.

I held back any question that surfaced on the tip of my tongue and waited. It was probably safer to let him start, than for me to accidentally press another button and find just how far someone of his temperament could be pushed before completely going homicidal on my ass again.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Hey Everyone! I'm going to go ahead and let you guys know this new chapter is going to be kind of short. It's more of a set up for Chapter Five, which I'm currently working on. I want to say "Thank you" to **Asteal** , **Debella** , **Sakura Dreamer 13** , and **elliisaah** for clicking on that **Favorite/Follow** button. I'm happy the story has captured your interest! I also want to give a shout out and "thank to you" to those who have reviewed! I'm always happy to hear what people think of my work!

 **Tibblets:** I'm glad you have found the story is enjoyable so and hope it continues to be interesting for you!

 **Guest:** I'm not to going to say whether Sauron will actually succeed or not in this story. That would be giving too much away. Thank you for your excitement and support! ^^

 **Revanchist21:** I like putting new spins on fanfiction ideas. I like writing my stories with an element of unpredictability in them. I don't know if I always succeed, but I do try. ^^ Thank you!

Chapter Four

The composed demeanor Mister Head Honcho put on reminded me of a businessman ready to orchestrate a deal that would work towards his advantage. He folded the clawed tips of his black metal gloves on the table. His eerie eyes burned into mine.

"You speak in past tense as if the events of the war have already occurred," he said as he studied my rigid posture. I wanted to shrink into the size of a microscopic germ underneath the weight of his gaze. "Does these ancient accounts say how the Alliance was able to get in the weapon into Mordor without notice?"

I swallowed. Why was the War of the Ring suddenly a topic of interest for this guy? The War of the Ring happened seven hundred years ago. Was there some kind of legend that said the weapon hadn't been successfully destroyed that I hadn't been aware of while doing my research on the subject? Or was this guy a whack job, who believed he was the rightful heir to the Dark Lord and believed the Ultimate Weapon was still out there? Although, that didn't explain the lack of modern amenities, security cameras and armed guards that didn't possess a jagged sword or spiky mace.

The feeling that something was clearly wrong tugged at the back of my mind. I mean besides the fact I had been kidnapped by an obvious psychopath with a thing for medieval décor and was perfectly okay with living by torch-light and having his headquarters near an active volcano of all places!

"Well, that's the thing," I said, weighing each word that came out of my mouth. Play the game, Fiona. Humor the insane man with obvious magical powers and terrifying anger management issues. I treaded lightly. "Most of the first-hand accounts of the War of the Ring were written after the war, and most of them are in Old Sindarin, which is difficult to translate into the current form we use today. Most accounts from the time reference a ring-bearer and a mythical race called Halfings. One legend says that a Halfling helped the ring-bearer into Mordor, but the details of how is wishy-washy at best. There is an epic poem from that time that references parts from the legend, but most scholars dismiss the legend as embellishments and a wive's tale."

An uncomfortable silence followed as my kidnapper seemed to consider what was said. He picked up the chalice next to him and took long a drink, before setting it down. "It is safe to say that history not does know everything in the concerns of the demise of the Dark Lord and his weapon then, yes?"

Why the hell was this so important to him?! I nodded. "Pretty much. You have to realize the war ended over seven hundred years ago and what is past down to us today is a water down version with embellishments and missing pieces."

"What does history have to say about the Dark Lord?" he inquired.

I blinked. "Like I said, he supposedly bit the dust. His fortress collapsed after the weapon was thrown back into the fire of Mount Doom, which by the way I'm guessing is the very same volcano stationed outside your headquarters. Aren't you a little concerned about a possible eruption, taking this place out? The last civilization that attempted to settle in Mordor was buried under a mile of ash back in the 1500s when Mount Doom last erupted."

An amused smirk tugged at the corner of Mister Head Honcho's ashen grey face. "You have an interesting way with words, Fiona," he told me. The way his said my name sent unpleasant shivers down my spine. "And a learned scholar as well. Quite ambitious for a woman. I imagine you met quite the uproar from your male counterparts."

I gawked at him incredulous. Was this person raised under a fucking rock? Sure, women struggled to gain a strong foothold in the field of academia for the last hundred years or so, but the way he spoke it was as women scholars were extremely rare or unheard of. Hadn't he ever had any women professors when he attended school? My stomach churned uncomfortable.

"What are you getting at?" I asked, indignation warmed my voice, temporarily chasing away the fear was that ever present. Sure, I was terrified of this madman, but like most self-respecting women who worked her ass for her master's in research history, I did not like the contempt in his voice.

"You have a gift," he said, flashing his pointy teeth as he spoke. "Your knowledge on the events of the War of the Ring is insightful."

"Uh… Thanks?" Okay, seriously, where was this conversation going?

"However, it appears one piece of narrative has eluded your perspective gaze," he replied with amusement.

"And what's that?" I asked cautiously.

He leaned on his fist as his eyes appraised me like I was some sort of rare stone. He picked up the chalice full of wine next to him and raised it to me as if in a toast. "The Dark Lord of Mordor has now gained an advantage in the war and in the end will succeed in rewriting history."

I think my mouth dropped to the table. What did he just say? Was he implying that-Did this guy actually believe that he was Sauron?!

"Welcome to the War of The Ring, my dear Fiona," he said.


End file.
